


Our lives, a perpetual sunrise

by deepnorth (hulkey)



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: 50-s, F/F, Femslash, Other, RPS - Freeform, Real Person Slash - Freeform, movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5677342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulkey/pseuds/deepnorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you just know that something is bound to happen. The thing is: you know it's going to hurt you. And you go ahead because you know it's worth it. </p>
<p>Sometimes people change your life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: RPS
> 
> I know, I know. Everybody involved is straight. However, what comes to my head is solely a product of my rich imagination. After all, everybody has dreams about their own Carol, who looks like Cate Blanchett. No shaming.
> 
> And, as always: I do not want any rights. Everything goes to Ms. Highsmith and her enigmatic brain. I'd like to thank Phyllis Nagy for the brilliant script. I've sincerely applauded in the night, and my family wasn't happy about it. Todd Haynes, you're an aesthetic genius. Cate Blanchett, you're a goddess. Rooney Mara, you've made the best Therese Belivet possible. Thank you all.

'How incredible this pain of being unable to be with a person you want can be. It's sweet, poisonously sweet, cruel and bone smashing.'

A woman in the late twenties sat in an old, creaky chair. She read a book in a plain leather cover out loud, with a slight, barely tangible, desperation. At the last word her voice twitched and she gasped. The warm, orange light fell on her face and knees, making her tiny figure even smaller in the roaring night.

A thin, elegant woman in her forties turned around. The ice in her glass tinkled softly.

'Do you know how it feels?'

The long, doll-like fingers clenched the paper and whitened. The light tarnished, leaving the young woman in the shadows of dying warmth. An exhalation broke the silence.

'Yes. I guess, I do.'

* * *

Todd Haynes yawned and turned a page. It was half-past two in the morning. He stretched in a chair and said:

'Yes, we still have it today. And I know that we will face some severe criticism to fire on that. People still think that it's not normal. You know, I know. It's not enough.'

'Indecency,' Rooney murmured. 'What did they know about indecency? How it could even be considered indecent, for two people to fall in love?' She took a sip from her glass and pressed a page. Her eyebrows were tightly furrowed, and she looked like a teenager who denies coping with reality.

'Well, you do know how it works, don't you?' Todd smiled wearily. 'What's the use of the questions today? Even stronger women at those times needed some courage to live like that.'

They've been there a lot of times. They were arguing about history over and over again. Every time it revealed something new to her. Rooney loved directors; she considered them wise. She needed to trust them. And she trusted Todd.

A movie they've been working on was a result of 11 years of hard dedication, and it was a fierce battle to bring it to pre-production. She's been reading that script a lot - even when she refused to take part a couple of years ago, Rooney never put it aside. The second time she agreed, but she knew that she needed Todd right there to guide her.

'Right. I know. Anyway,' she sipped from the cup again. 'You know, sometimes you just feel for it. You're trying to understand some underlying reasons and you're failing. Miserably!'

Todd watched her carefully. Rooney brushed her hair behind her ear. Once again he realized that she would be the best Therese Believet possible. With that thought, he rubbed his forehead.

'The woman should have had no fear. To act like this, to be allowed to act like this by society - what an incredible nonsense it was. People denied even the possibility of such relationships. It was considered a disease. And when it's the disease, you need to be cured. This cure... Well, it's hard to justify these types of medicine.' He looked at his wristwatch. 'Well, it's been a long day.'

Rooney looked up. She realized that it was a middle of the night. Ashamed, she jumped on her feet.

'Oh, Todd. I am sorry. Let's go. My bad, I've been out of here.'

'It's okay,' he patted her on her shoulder. 'It's okay. You'll be fine.'

* * *

They grabbed their belongings in silence. With drowsy eyes, Todd looked around and switched all the tumblers on the desk. Lights slowly got out, and they took the stairs to a parking lot. It was a late November, but snow barely touched the ground. The leaves gracefully died on the wet asphalt, crushed and dirty.

Todd stretched his arms and sighed. The night was beautiful, and the air was cold and clear. He drew the door keys from his pocket.

'I think you should discuss it with Cate at some point of time. She's interested in these things. She knows a lot about the women's right.'

Rooney rubbed her nose. Deeply in her heart, she was afraid of Cate. They've met previously, but it was quick and insignificant encounters. What she knew was that everybody loved Cate. Her sister adored her. In their childhood they were frequent in the cinema, watching the movies with Cate Blanchett. And now the meeting was inevitable. The readings and rehearsals were starting soon.

Todd immediately felt her hesitation.

'It's going to be fine. Look, she's one of the most incredible human beings I've ever met. I'm sure, you two will go along.'

Rooney blushed. She didn't want to be read so easily.

'I hope.' She smiled awkwardly. Todd locked the doors and stopped again for a moment. He smiled encouragingly. He just knew that it would be a match.

'Believe me. I know. I'm a director. I know with whom I'm doing the film. Don't I?'

Rooney laughed in relief.

'Of course, you do. Sorry. I'm just nervous.'

'Don't be. You'll see yourself. And get home safe.' He took her hand and squeezed it gently.

'You too.'

* * *

Rooney sat in her car in the complete silence. Everything was right, but something was wrong. Every time she was reading the script, she got this feeling of instant danger. It was distant, without any shape or reason. Just the gut feeling that she couldn't throw away.

And Cate. She was a legend. It was a dream. When Rooney was thinking about Cate, her heart was shrinking in the small clot. It was strange. After all her years in Hollywood, she got used to the walking legends around her. Only Cate Blanchett was terra incognita - and it made Rooney so unnerved.

'Dreams come true,' she started the car. 'And you should be afraid of them.'


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks before cold readings Rooney has spent in the stuffy sleepless nights. She stopped to read the script a month ago. Now the dreading feeling that she doesn't know how to play her role filled her mind. Therese Belivet seemed so unfamiliar, and Rooney didn't know how to come closer. 

Her previous jobs suddenly seemed so easy and funny. She knew that it was just an illusion but her childish fear to step into rehearsal process grew bigger day by day. 

The strong black coffee in a crystal white cup looked almost artificial, like a bizarre scene in a strange French arthouse movie. Rooney blatantly stared at it for a moment and then took a sip. The hot liquid burned her tongue, and she hissed. 

* * *

A dry and sunny January morning marked three days before the crew assembling in Cincinnati. Todd called a couple of hours ago, just to check in. They stopped their meeting three weeks ago, but he continued to ring her once in a week. Elizabeth dropped an email confirming the filming dates. The anxiety of the past days reached a new milestone: she couldn't sleep at all. 

The sound of the dropped keys brought her out of the self-inflicted trance. 

'Hey?' Kate, her sister, popped up in the doorway. 'Ah, here you are.' She sighed. Her red cheeks lightened the room. 

'What are you doing here?' Kate froze for a moment. Rooney clumsily coughed trying to ease the rudeness. 'I mean, hey, sister.'

'You look like shit.' Kate has never sugarcoated anything. With a visible disturbance, she looked at her little sister. 'Have you ever slept or what?' At a brisk pace, she approached Rooney and put a hand to her forehead. 

'I have no fever, Kate,' she pulled back. 'I'm just...'

'You just don't sleep. And apparently, don't eat.' Kate frowned. 'I just wanted to check you before you're off to Ohio. Now I think I was right.' 

'Why do you all feel the need to check on me?' Rooney sounded annoyed. Kate took a step back. 'And what does it mean you think you were right?' 

The sister gave her an odd look. 'You're gone nuts with this film. I just wanted to be sure you're not going to break down. Too many jobs, you know. You could break down, sister.' 

'I'm okay.' Rooney's voice was hoarse. 'Really, Kate. It's just a job. I'm just anxious a little. I'm not sure I know what to do.' 

'You've got Haynes.' Kate shrugged like it was not a big deal. 'Haynes is good. They say he's damn brilliant. And you go along with the directors. Relax, it's going to be fun.' 

'What about...' Rooney shut herself up. 

'What about what?' Kate moved closer again and took her sister's hand. Rooney stared at the table with a stumble expression. Her lower lip flinched. Kate knew that it was a sign of the anxiety and uncertainty. Rooney looked so tired and so small that Kate immediately wanted to tuck her in a blanket and hug her until she falls asleep. 

'What about Cate. Cate Blanchett.' Rooney blurted out that name almost inaudible. Kate giggled. 

'Whoa. Well. Honey, she's great. I'm not that familiar with her personally, but people say she's hilarious. She's like, you know, a living legend. All that stuff. You're a lucky one.' 

Rooney nervously rubbed her nose.

'Yes, yes. I don't doubt that. I know all the stuff they're saying about her. Once in a lifetime experience, yeah.' She rose abruptly and took her cup. 'Want some coffee? I need to wake up.' 

* * *

Burning cold filled her lungs. Cincinnati welcomed Rooney with the bright blue sky of an early morning. The columns of smoke shot strictly up from the pipes of the industrial district. She could hear the airplanes landing and taking off. The roaring engines somehow calmed her nerves. 

Her driver silently collected her luggage and went away to put it in the trunk. She stood near a car for a moment, inhaling the crisp air. Closing her eyes, Rooney took a deep breath and nodded to some thoughts in her head.

* * *

The apartments were at the very top of Residence Inn. That place was going to be her home for the next two months. She blankly stared at the downtown diving into the snowy dusk of a cold February day. The weather has changed rapidly, and she ultimately agreed with its pace. Somewhere inside her tiny body, a massive storm was brewing; this utter feeling of helplessness gradually absorbed her.

The cold readings would start tomorrow. Later that day, she was going to meet with Todd and Christine for a brief lunch. Rooney tightened inside again. She wished that this lunch would relieve some of her worries, but she knew that it won't happen. 

The phone went alive. Rooney shuddered.

'Ms. Mara?' A polite voice on the other end of the line was unfamiliar. She hated to speak with strangers. However, she braced herself and replied instead of hanging up. 

'Yes, yes. Hello.' She didn't expect anyone to call her, and it was irritating. The voice continued.

'It's Marvin, your personal hotel manager. I've got a hand delivered parcel for you. Do you want it to be brought now or later?' 

'Parcel?' She asked again. What the hell? 

'Yes, miss.' She hectically sorted out who could send anything to her directly. No guesswork. 

'Okay, then. Bring it now. Thank you.' 

'Thank you. Goodbye.' Staccato beeps went right into her ear. She amusingly looked at the phone. Rooney has had no chance to meet with Rebecca, her personal assistant, but she already made a mental note to ask her to prevent that phone to ring again. 

Someone knocked on the door.

She fixed her hair and rushed to unlock the door. A handsome man in the uniform looked at her with a warm smile in his eyes and handed a small package. 

'Here it is. Anything I can help you with?'

'No, no. Thank you, Marvin.' She smiled back and closed the door. 

* * *

The package was wrapped in a thick old school paper and tied with a whipcord. Rooney accurately untied the knot and unwrapped the parcel. It was a book. 

'Carol,' she read it out loud. 'With an afterword by the author.'

A little card slipped to her laps. Rooney took it with the trembling hands.

"What a beautiful story, isn't it?" It said. And with a slight quirk: "Cate".

Her heart skipped a beat.

She couldn't even anticipate it. The feeling of danger blew off again. 

She tossed a book on the bed and read the card again. 

Cate. 


	3. Chapter 3

Todd looked around. The room with the draped walls was full of people. The fabric was dark navy and a little bit dusty, as it remembered the better days. God knew how many actors and rehearsals it outlived. At the center of that space stood a table - an old, wooden table, something you could imagine in the plays of Tennessee Williams. Todd clapped his hands, and the mortifying silence instilled in the room. He felt like he was a conductor of the beautiful orchestra with a million voices. In a flash, he was in the focus of the dozen eyes. 

‘Well, first of all, hello. My name is Todd, and it’s nice to meet you all.’ 

An amicable laugh filled the room. Todd shifted on his feet and smiled. 

‘I’m happy we’re finally here. I know how hard we all worked to make it happen, and it’s a blessing to see you today.’ He enjoyed that attention. His heart danced in its own rhythm of pleasure. 

‘So, I’ll start with a little roll call. Just to make sure we don’t miss anyone, you know. It would be a pity.’ Todd drew a list from his pocket and cleared his throat. 

‘Kyle?’ 

‘Yeah,’ a big man with dark hair said, bowing to the crew. He could make good Gatsby, Todd thought. He smiled back and looked at the list. 

‘Sarah?’ A woman with observant eyes nodded to Todd. Sarah was wonderful. He didn’t know how the casting team caught her, but he was grateful. 

‘Jake?’ A handsome man with the boyish dimples and childish grin stood from his chair and bowed. Todd saluted him. Jake had that brave face of 50’s young guys. It was a rare thing. 

‘John?’ A nice Jewish boy stood up. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said. Todd winked and smiled. ‘Pleased to meet you too,’ he replied. 

Todd glanced at his list. It was almost finished, with only two names to go. He felt a pinch a nervousness under his ribs. It was a match or no match. And no second attempt. 

‘Rooney?’ A young woman smiled at him. He sensed her shyness and hesitance as if he was experiencing it. She was obviously uncomfortable among those people. Todd felt for her; Rooney tried her best to cope with that, and her fight was written on her face. ‘I am happy to see you, dear,’ he finally said. 

‘Cate?’ That name hung in the middle of the room. All eyes were on the figure that stood near the wall. 

‘Here am I,’ she said and made a step towards Todd. He smiled wholeheartedly. The charm of that woman was stunning, and it was completely unreasonable to fight it. He looked back at Rooney. She stood startled. 

Todd’s heart stopped its dance for a moment. The first time in his life he didn’t know if it was a match. 

* * *

 

When Todd pronounced her name, Rooney froze inside. It was close, she thought. Everybody looked at her with interest. For most of them, she was a girl with the dragon tattoo, the badass with non-existent eyebrows and a motorcycle. She felt almost naked in that room. But Rooney knew that her main challenge was ahead. 

‘Cate?’ Todd said in his usual voice. 

Beat. Beat. Beat. 

‘Here am I.’ 

The voice went through her body. It seemed that the whole room had become electrified. Cate stood near the wall in a dark gray turtleneck and black slacks. Not to stare, not to stare, flashed in Rooney’s mind. But it was impossible. She blushed. A weak attempt to hide it was the last thing she had done before she felt her huge fiasco. 

When Rooney looked up again, Cate was smiling with the corner of her mouth. Rooney could bet that nobody saw it. Cate glanced at her and turned around. 

Rooney knew she was caught. 

* * *

‘Okay, let’s get right to this scene. Richard, Therese. You two, riding a bicycle.’ 

Jake coughed and looked at Rooney. She nodded. 

‘So I got the schedules. In the mail. You listening me?’ 

Rooney took a pause. She tried to act professionally but the power that the woman behind her spread on that room was excruciating. Rooney felt those blue eyes on her tiny back, and it screwed everything up. Her heart had gone crazy. She was not sure if it wouldn’t stop abruptly, ending her life in such misery. The mere presence of Cate unexplainably made her erratic. Why were those feelings so strong? Why? 

‘You listening me?’ Jake repeated.

Breathe, Rooney, she said to herself. 

‘I’m listening! You got the schedules.’ She saw how Todd nodded. Jack went on. 

‘And there are two sailings to France in June, one in July.’ 

She looked at her text trying not to crumple the goddamn script. 

‘Wow.’ 

‘So whaddya think?’ 

‘I think… I think it’s so cold I can’t think straight.’ She blurted those words in a hurry. 

‘That was good.’ Todd scratched his eyebrows and looked at the clocks. ‘Okay, we have time to run this one, I guess. Carol, Therese. Please. We’re coming to the train sets.’ 

‘Okay,’ Cate stood up and went to Rooney. The young woman leaned on the table and looked at the text so intensely as if she had never memorized every line. 

‘Do you ship?’ The voice took her by surprise. Rooney froze watching Cate’s lips moving. Impeccable American accent, that kind of 50’s intonations that they, as the country, had lost. 

‘Special delivery. Or courier. You’ll have it in two, three days. Two days. We’ll even assemble it.’ 

Cate grinned. ‘Well. That’s… that. Sold.’ 

‘Nice!’ Todd murmured and clapped his hands again. ‘I guess, that’s a wrap for today. As I see, you’ve done your homework.’ Everybody giggled. ‘We’ll move to blocking next time. Alright, thank you.’

* * *

‘Thank you for the book,’ Rooney muttered behind Cate’s back. Everybody was moving out, and she was not expected to be heard in that hectic shuffle. Rooney felt like she should have thanked Cate for the gift, even if the woman wouldn’t hear her. 

‘You’re welcome. Do you like it?’ Cate turned around. The deep, charming voice with an Australian accent was suddenly close. 

‘Yes. Or, you mean a story?’ 

‘Both.’ Cate smiled and looked straight into her eyes. Rooney blushed again. 

‘Yes. I like the story.’ 

Cate moved closer. 

‘Todd spoke very highly of you. And I am impressed by your works too.’ 

Rooney’s breath stuck in her throat. She swallowed and coughed. 

’Thank you.’ 

‘You’re a sweet little thing.’ Cate said and slowed as she wanted to say something else. That moment passed, and she smiled apologetically. ‘But excuse me. I should run. See you tomorrow, Rooney.’ 

Rooney could feel Cate’s perfume. She could sense how palpable a presence of Cate was in the air. Seconds later Cate was gone, and Rooney stood abandoned in the middle of the room. 

‘I’ve told you.’ Todd stood behind her and waited. He was sure that it was a match. It was written all over his proud face. 

‘Told me what?’ She asked, still not being able to look away from a doorway. 

‘You two go along. She’s fabulous, isn’t she?’ 

Rooney turned to him and gave him an odd, lost look. 

‘Yes, I see. I see. Yes, Todd. She is. Thank you.’ 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to readers: blocking is a part of the script readings that involves the physical movements. Blocking shapes performance and gives understanding of movement and behaviour inside the particular scene. For directors, it's the strongest tool to help the actors.
> 
> Note to readers #2: I'm very disappointed by Golden Globes. It's insanely unfair to leave Todd, Cate and Rooney without win.

Blank, sturdy sky pressed Rooney to the ground. However, she woke up with a burning feeling of excitement as if she was a child who's eager to know what Santa has brought to her on the Christmas night. She touched a cold wooden floor with the toes and promptly picked her feet up. The feeling of an upcoming miracle immediately dissolved.

For a minute, through the big windows, Rooney watched the unfriendly Cincinnati streets. Almost rude, hopeless and blatantly depressing, February has always made her sad.

"Driver 10:15. Breakfast at 9:15?" A text from Rebecca beeped in her phone. Well, it was 8:50 and she had a plenty of time. She texted back a short "Yes" and forcefully got out of the bed.

* * *

"Dannie, Therese. Times' scene!"

Rooney sat on the table, and John stood in front of her leaning on a chair. He looked at her with an obvious interest of his character. Dannie, that young dreamer. She liked him from the first glance at the script.

"Yeah but, all of us, we have, you know" He made a pause. "Affinities for people, right?"

In the awkward silence of the room, she fixedly observed her hands.

"Or certain people." John went on. "There are certain people you like." She shot a quick look at her left, in the comforting darkness where others sat.

"Sometimes."

"And others you don't. And you don't really know why you're attracted to some people and not others, the only thing you know is - you either are attracted or you're not. It's like physics - bouncing off each other like pin balls."

Silence. One second, two seconds, three seconds. Rooney counted beats in her head trying to reconnect with the sequence of the script. The words struck her somewhere between ribs leaving with a pulling sense of a direct hit. She forced a smile.

"Yeah, but... Not everything's as simple as a bunch of pin balls reacting, or..." Indeed. She inhaled shortly.

"Some things don't even react. But everything's alive". He made a step to her. With the brave young certainty, he took her copy of the script as if it was a beer and put it away. His closeness was almost intimidating, with all this smell, with all his determination. Rooney felt it: suddenly, like her character, she experienced an urge not to obey, but to prove her wrong perception, that filled her from head to toes. She didn't know what and why was it wrong but she needed to be sure that it's not. John leaned over to kiss her.

"And here we stop." Todd got up and walked over to them. "It was good. That's good. John, here. You should be simultaneously naive and decisive, not overly decisive. Okay?" He turned to Rooney. "You caught it well, that feeling inside of Therese, that she's up to it not because she likes Dannie - and she likes him, apparently! - but to discover something about herself." Todd paused. "Yes?" She nodded. "Are we ready to move?" He watched her with the deepest attention as if she was the most fragile thing in the room. "Sure we are, Todd," she answered. She lied. She knew next thing was the scene with Cate. No matter which one, Rooney just was not ready to start. The anxiety of previous months begun to shape into something very concrete. All she felt was a blind desire to catch every movement of the older woman. Her every attempt to explain it to herself in the past three days failed each time.

"That's great. Cate? We're moving back, to the lunch scene."

"Well, okay. Don't shake. It's not that bad." Inner voice materialised in the wrong moment. "Shut up!" she ordered to it and squeezed her hand leaving red marks on the tender skin.

* * *

The table between them seemed almost nonexistent. She dove into these blue eyes without any possibility to come back to the surface. The trap of the deep voice was so fatal that she surrounded without any fight.

"Your perfume - " Rooney unconsciously drew the smell of the woman in front of her. This perfume. This subtle, royal flavour of the woman. She has never thought about it, but she suddenly knew that it's going to haunt her.

"Yes?" Cate asked. She looked at Rooney with the narrowed eyes. It was uncomfortable; young woman felt like blood rushes through her veins to the head making her feverish.

"It's nice." Finally, she managed how to speak again. Cate smiled encouragingly. Rooney couldn't look away from her lips.

"Thank you. Harge bought me a bottle years ago, before we were married. I've been wearing it ever since."

"Harge is your husband?" One couldn't tell if this nervousness was not genuine. And it was not.

"Yes. Well. Technically we - We're divorcing." This look. Intense.

"I'm sorry." Rooney watched Cate's fingers trembling.

"Don't be."

Pause. Beat.

"And do you live alone, Therese Belivet?" The question seemed very intimate and direct.

"I do." Surprisedly Rooney felt a rush of bravery. "Well, there's Richard. He wants to live with me."

Oh. This smile. This understanding smile.

"No, it's nothing like that. It's - he'd like to marry me."

Cate's face didn't change. Not a hint.

"I see. Would you like to marry him?"

A pause. Eyes to eyes.

"I barely know what to order for lunch."

Cate stared at her for a moment and then she suddenly grinned with sorrow. Out of the darkness the narrator's voice spoke:

"The waiter appears with their food. He sets their plates down."

"I'm starved. Bon appetit."

Every movement of this woman seemed like a sin. Rooney absorbed every second, mentally taking all the possible pictures. How this hands move, how these lips speak, how tense these eyes are and how deep are they blue.

"And what do you do on Sundays?" For a moment, Rooney eagerly wished that this question was asked besides the script.

"Nothing in particular. What do you do?" She asked emphasising the pronoun.

Cate answered with a long stare. Then she barely smiled.

"Nothing - lately. If you'd like to visit me some time, you're welcome to. At least, there's some pretty country around where I live. Would you like to come out this Sunday?"

Once again Rooney regretted that this offering was just a part of the story.

"Yes."

Only Rooney saw that Cate took a long inhale. Then she leaned over table and, looking straight in young woman's eyes, she quietly and distinctly said:

"What a strange girl you are." "Why?"

Dead pause took forever. Cate leaned back in the chair and almost whispered.

"Flung out of space."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sincerely sorry for a pause; I've been moving between two countries and this vagabond life didn't leave me a chance to write anything. Now I'm all set and I hope I'll be able to write more consistently.
> 
> Note to my precious readers: thank you for all your comments, I hear everything you're saying. Thank for everyone who took their time and read this story.
> 
> Note to Academy: you, bastards, are cruel and it's not remotely fair.

"Care for a drink?"

"What?" Rooney turned around in surprise. Cate stood incredibly close and never blinked despite this shouting impoliteness.

"Do you mind a drink?" She repeated it slowly and accurately. Rooney effaced herself for a moment but tried to quickly fix her knurling anxiety.

"Yes, of course." She took all her guts in the fist not to sound overly excited.

"Well, what do you do today? I have some time in the evening. Do you have any plans?"

Beat.

"No, not really."

* * *

"I know, Rebecca, please, just call William" She ran out of breath. "Yes, I know it's hard to arrange, and I should meet them, please, call William, he'll make it right."

On the other end of the line, Rebecca tried to be reasonable, but Rooney paid no attention at all. "Okay, okay. You'll call him?" Rebecca disapprovingly agreed, and Rooney pressed a red button. In the snow dance of cold Cincinnati, she questioned her sanity, and the answers were not in her favour. The phone rang again. Rooney squinted. William.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Mara, are you sane? Rebecca gave me a call to express your refusal to arrive at the dinner party with Johnsons."

He sounded serious, but Rooney knew that he tried to make it official and after this formal introduction she will have to speak honestly. But she wasn't ready. And she wasn't sure why she should be ready.

"Yes, William. Unfortunately, it's impossible for me to be there this evening." She played cool, but William wouldn't let it go without any sound reason. She knew it, and the mere thought of it clenched her inside.

"You've never done this before, Ms. Mara." He was so old fashioned and polite, even if irritated. For a slipping moment, she felt a pinch of conscience. It flew away with the light reminiscence of Cate's 50s pronunciation in the William's speech. She sighed.

"I know, William. I am sorry, and I can not make it. I fully understand and admit any consequences of this bold - as you possibly think of it - move."

"And what's the reason, if I may ask you?"

She stood still. Silence on the line was almost unbearably awkward. William coughed.

"Look, William..." Rooney started trying to make up some decent lie. She was good at lying, she could play anything she wanted, but, this time, the words just stuck in her throat. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid Mara. Do even use your head?' inner voice was straightforward and cruel. She showed it away.

Suddenly William said, very calmly, almost tranquilly: "I hope it's something serious, what are you about to do. Skipping a dinner that Tom has arranged God knows how long, it's pretty scandalous. You better have some good reasons."

"I have them." She almost spat these words in relief, not believing that a burden to explain herself just passed away. "I mean, thank you. Thank you for understanding."

She heard how William smiled slightly.

"I'll contact you later, Ms. Mara. Have a nice evening."

* * *

'Unprofessional, blatantly unprofessional' the inner voice bummed in her head constantly. "So what?" Rooney asked in the air trying to figure out what she was going to wear.

Stop.

The ridiculous atmosphere of something looking suspiciously similar to date preparations collapsed on her. She blankly looked at her wardrobe and felt incredibly stupid.

The phone rang - once again.

"Hello, sister." Rooney tried to sound calm and confident.

"Rooney, what's up? Seems you went crazy in Cincinnati?" Kate's voice was so amazingly provocative, Rooney couldn't help but slyly smiled.

"Nothing in particular. Why?"

"Little bird told me you skipped a posh dinner with ol' pretentious family."

"Yes, your little bird was right. I did it." She picked the grey slacks from her wardrobe and a white blouse. 'Simple. Keep it simple' she said to herself and pressed the phone to her ear with her shoulder.

"What?" Kate asked her again, not being able to catch sister's words.

"Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself." No, she was not going to tell you what she was doing. Not even at the gunpoint.

"Anything you care to share?" Oh yes. Kate was eager to know what's going on.

"No, not really." Rooney tried to make her voice as nonchalant as she could.

"And what's the reason you're not going to this dinner?" Kate grew a little bit impatient.

"Tired. Just tired. I've told you I got some doubts if I can make it right. Readings are tough." It was true. She was tired; but it was not the weariness from her acting, it was a sense that she just didn't get something vital. That she didn't know what she was doing.

"Oh." Kate sounded simultaneously disappointed and worried. "Want me to come?"

"No. No, thank you, Kate. I'll be okay. I'll take this evening just by myself. I promise I'll spend it as good as I can." Did she look like she tried to get rid of the possibility of her sister visit? She thought about it too late. Kate has already been offended.

"Okay, though."

"I'm sorry, Kate. I've never meant to upset you. I just really need some time to get accustomed to it. That's all."

"I hope you'll be fine." Kate still was disgruntled, but her voice became softer. "Oh, and I wanted to ask: how did you find Cate?.."

* * *

Kate knew how to do some good jab in the stomach. Rooney looked in the mirror trying to breathe herself to calm. Pale skin and large bewildered eyes, what a lovely look!

"That's fine. That is fine."

Soft knocking. "Ms. Mara?"

She opened the door. The old man bowed to her with reverence and gently pronounced: "Please, follow me. Your car arrived."

Rooney took - a little bit in a hurry - her coat and grabbed her gloves. The man silently waited for her, politely looking at the floor.

"Should we?" she asked her companion, and he led her to the inner parking of Residence Inn. It seemed he knew every corner of this place, and they never met anyone.

"Please." He opened a car door and helped her to get into. Two gentle knocks on the roof and she drove away in the Cincinnati night.

* * *

"It's nice of you, to come to see me."

Pause. Rooney looked around. It was an old wooden bar with the private club rooms. You could call a waiter just gently pressing a little knob on the wall.

"Don't say that." She smiled. "It's a pleasure."

"Is it?" Cate looked at Rooney as she was exploring all her features. The young woman felt some uneasiness and... Well, a little bit naked.

The waiter quietly knocked and with a grace of tiger placed two glasses of sparkling wine on a small table in front of a fireplace.

Everything around was so old. So American, so flawlessly mastered and solid. The room was heavy but in this heaviness was trustworthiness of generations who sat there looking at the fire.

"It is." Rooney finally said. "The place is splendid. How did you find it?"

"Oh. My old friend is fond of it. It's his private room, and he allowed me to use it whenever I'm up to it. The time has finally come." Cate smiled as she knew something that Rooney couldn't understand.

She took a sip from her glass. Cold, bubbling liquid seemed suddenly reassuring.

"That is so kind of you, to invite me. I like the fireplace."

"I like it too. It makes you distant. It takes you out there, and you have some freedom just to be somewhere you want to be. Or with someone."

Cate's eyes darkened.

"Do you miss your family?" Rooney asked cautiously.

"Of course. The boys... The boys are amazing. They are my treasure. I'm sure you would like them." She took her glass. "And they would like you."

Rooney smiled - very gently, very gingerly. "It would be nice to meet them," She said. "Their mother is wonderful."

These words, said quietly, turned into thunder. Rooney felt how everything in her body just crumbled and went to ruins.

"You think so?" Cate smiled with a corner of her mouth and kept her eyes on Rooney's lips. Her ears reddened and from the inside, it seemed like Rooney was sweating in the huge firestorm.

"Yes."

"I'm flattered."

Silence.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to my precious readers:
> 
> My dear readers, I'm overwhelmed! Your comments and views of this work are truly inspiring. Thank you for being with me and this story.
> 
> Note to SAG:
> 
> Well, you made me a little bit sad again. We could talk about freedom and self-sufficiency of the impeccable art but nobody cares.

Who knows if Cincinnati was made to be especially cold in the mornings or it was just a whirlwind of blankets that somehow tried to spit you out from the bed. Rooney opened her eyes in a strange twilight. She stretched her hand and searched a bedside table for her phone. Nothing. Resistant to put her feet on the floor, she buried herself in the pillows trying to find the thing. Again, not the slightest trace. The last hope to find it was on the floor or - worse - under the bed. She hung down and fumbled around with her hand. Cold floor was unbearable to touch. Rooney was almost desperate to get out from the leftovers of the warmth when the phone vibrated somewhere around her feet. 

She tightened. Did she oversleep? Did she forget something? The fear from her school days was strong even as the years passed after her graduation. 'Day off, day off' the inner voice beeped inside her head. Rooney finally managed to dig the phone out of blankets and looked at it. 12:42. Okay.  

The phone was blowing with notifications. Rebecca sent her a couple of texts on up-comings, Kate called three times and left a couple of voice messages. Emails, updates and all these unnecessary things that pop up on your screen when you wait for something else. A little sting of bitter feeling of neglect flashed inside Rooney, but she chose not to hold on it. In the end, it was just stupid. Stupid, unprofessional and childish.  

Step by step the sensations of the last night came back to her. The lulling warmth of the fire, its calming sounds, the explosions of the bubbles in the glass. Everything else just disappeared for this one particular evening. They were mostly silent as if they have not ever needed to form the words to understand each other. The whole time turned into the flow that carried away any significance of talking. 

From time to time the flow took them both and dragged to the meaningless conversation; always to make Cate laugh. Her voice, deep and charming, poured its music right into Rooney making her resonate with the unknown strings inside her. Surreptitiously the young woman soaked the presence of the older: she watched her moves with an ecstatic reverence. 

"Do you think that to worship something is insane?"

The question, pulled out of the delirious ocean of body chemicals and alcohol, was unexpected even for Rooney herself. In the ten long seconds of silence Cate has motionless watched the fire and for a moment, the young woman has hoped that she wasn't heard. 

The voice, deeper than space itself, mixed with the inscrutable face hit Rooney leaving her almost breathless. 

"I do think that to worship anything is insane." Cate took a sip from her glass. Long fingers played around the fine work of an unknown glassblower. The fire started to die throwing its last bursts of the orange light and comfort. Rooney felt like she was drowning in the chair. 

"I do not think that to worship someone is insane."

Maybe Rooney has drunk too much. 

Maybe not. 

* * *

"Feeling good?" 

"What?" Rooney was slipping from the conversation into her thoughts. Kate's voice felt distant, like in the other, very parallel dimension. 

"I mean, how have you spent the last evening?" oh, dear sister Kate, always in need to know news and details. Rooney sighed. 

"It was fine. I've been relaxing and watching the fire. Psychologists say it helps to calm down." She tried to make it ordinary. Somehow Kate has had some other plans. 

"Alone?"  

And it was a trap. Rooney knew that she has lost it because she kept silence for inexcusable two seconds. 

"Yes." 

"Don't lie to me." Kate's voice was almost triumphant.

"I don't." 

"And Charlie?" 

Fuck. Rooney frowned. She and Charlie were in the limb. They were spending time away from each other, and it was completely perfect for them. She didn't want Kate to know it because, well, she wasn't so fond of Charlie. And she would definitely decide that they broke up. 

"What's wrong with him? He's okay."

"So, you spend some time with someone - for whom you skip a planned dinner - and you think that it's fine with Charlie."

"I do not..." Rooney started to get irritated. "Well, Kate, nothing happens. Nothing. Charlie and I, we are fine. I'm just trying to do my job, to be the best I can be. It's a little complicated this time. Okay?" 

"Uh-hm." 

"I need to go. I'll call you later." She skipped the call and froze at the chair. Trembling hands weren’t able to keep the phone; in despair, she threw it on the bed.

Nothing happens, nothing happens. Goddamn, Charlie. 

* * *

She's almost overslept the start of the morning readings; in a hurry, she left her room trying not to be so terribly late and upset the crew. The whole night some wild pictures tortured her. Started with the nightmares of constant running without air, they became wilder. She saw the leather chair she's spent her evening with Cate. She felt like she was wrapped in the dangerous poison of Cate's power that penetrated her skin. Like a little fawn, she was hypnotised and surrendered. 

Rooney didn't remember the last part of the dream. Somehow, this sweet, dancing feeling in her muscles warned her not to try to recall it. 

* * *

"Were those pictures of me you were taking? At the tree lot?" 

Cate looked at her with an ironic smile. Rooney blushed. She knew that the older woman remembered everything that happened. Her heart took two beats. 

"I'm sorry. I should have asked." In the sincere move, she almost made a step towards Cate but cut herself. Not too obvious. Obvious - why? 

"Don't apologise." The ironic smile turned into the warm one. Somehow the floor beneath Rooney started to swing. She took a shaky breath and continued. 

"I've been trying to... A friend of mine told me I should be more interested. In humans." 

Cate squinted and slightly tilted her head with her majestic grace. 

"And how's that going?"

"Well... actually." If Rooney could bury this moment in her body, she would do it without any hesitation. 

* * *

Sarah watched Rooney. She watched her with a curiosity of the scientist. She unmistakably recognised this state of falling in a deep, desperate hole that always came out of the blue. But Cate was unreadable; somehow Sarah knew that this woman was more than aware of what's happening. 

"I can just see Harge's mother's face when she sees me in this." Cate made this nervous gesture to fix her hair. "Maybe I should stop home and change." 

Sarah looked at her and smiled encouragingly. 

"Don't be a stupe." 

Amused and anxious, Cate turned to her and asked. 

"Why don't I just not show up?"

Sarah shrugged. 

"Because I'll be blamed. So you'd better just grin and bear it." 

'Grin and bear it' these words echoed in Cate's head. ‘Grin and bear it’ - like nothing happens. Nobody is in charge. Because if she’s in charge, she should figure out how to manage it. And it was too much even for her - to manage something she didn’t want to define. At all. 

"You want to tell me about her?" 

Cate looked up at Sarah as if she was struck. Sarah smiled almost confusedly like she was not supposed to ask it. As if it was not written in the script and came surprisingly. 

"Therese? She returned my gloves." Cate sounded indifferent. Maybe too much.  

"And?"

"And... if you don’t get us out of this traffic soon, I won’t have to worry about any damned party." Cate shrugged and placed her hands on her chest. "Do you ever put the top up?"

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to my beloved readers:
> 
> Your words are truly the most beautiful treasure in the whole world. Thank you for reading.
> 
> Note to my beloved readers #2:
> 
> I appreciate your wishes to update this text asap. However, I work too much, and it takes time to write and re-read the thing. I try to keep up with weekly pace, and it's very brave of me regarding my workload. This week I update the story a little bit earlier because I know I can't do it as usual, on Sundays. But next chapter will be on the next Sunday anyway. Thank you for understanding.

The starting date for filming was almost set - March, 24. They have had a very strict schedule and could not delay the beginning of production. The whole thing turned out to be inevitable and Rooney's days were busy with meetings, costume designers, make-up artists, and rehearsals.

She tried to keep up with a flux of those days. However, the rehearsals have become more intense, even it's been more than a month before filming. Todd was in search of perfect scenes, perfect and natural, with an aesthetics of closeted feelings inside his characters. He wanted them to be caught in the air and left as they were. Sometimes it was exhausting, but sometimes it was a pure magic. The whole crew switched to work on their days when they built the scenes with the particular characters in the defined setups.

The regular meetings became a rare thing; she hasn't seen Cate in days. At nights, Rooney almost could persuade herself that she just invented the whole story. There was no context, no strange feelings; they were speaking, that's all. She had Charlie, and she has had him for three years already. There was just some new kind of a nervous breakdown.

That has been her usual night. In the cold and firm bed, the tiny young woman tried to talk herself into sleep. The small bursts of irritation and stir popped in her like a rainbow balloons in the town circus. Her hand stretched for the phone. Rooney wasn't completely aware of what she was doing, and she blankly stared at the screen for a moment. Then she dialed Charlie's number.

"Hello?" his voice was vigorous; she heard a city around him. The cars rumbled, the women laughed - Rooney almost felt the smell of the nightly LA with all its buzz. "Rooney? What's up?"

"Hello, Charlie. I was..." the sound of his voice was so out of the world that she suddenly lost all her reasons to call him. He didn't belong to this particular moment, to this particular place. But to hang up would be impolite. "I was wondering how are you?"

"I'm all right. How are you?" and not listening to the answer he continued "I miss you, Rooney."

Her heart skipped a beat and twisted in some unexpected tension. She clenched her fist and replied in the dark sky of Cincinnati:

"I miss you too, Charlie."

* * *

She stood there, in the dark room with walls draped in dusty fabrics. It was warm and cozy, however, she shivered and lifted the collar of her turtleneck.

"Okay, let's do the scene in New Jersey. Cate, Kyle, ready?"

"Sure." She heard her voice as it was miles away. These strange, hoarse notes were coming out from nowhere and carried her away to the uncertainty. She forgot this feeling. She stopped to feel this kind of attachment years ago and was sure that it was unnecessary for her to discover it again. Not when she's married for God knows how long and definitely not when she has had her amazing children.

"Cate?" Todd's voice caught her off guard.

"Oh, well. Sorry, I am."

"You're alright?" He watched her carefully. Cate didn't look tired. She seemed outlandish but only for the caring glance. He knew he shouldn't ask and he never would, but it bothered him. He liked to understand what's going on, and he couldn't figure it out.

She went to the center of the room and stopped there. Kyle took a step towards her - very close; she could smell him. He was big, and she stood tall in front of him. Kyle took her elbows, almost tenderly.

"You smell good."

"You're drunk," She answered with a bore and growing irritation. He pulled her closer.

"Harge, I'm cold."

Kyle made an uneven step back - as if he was really drunk. Cate caught his hand and said, "Let me get you some coffee."

"I'm not drunk." The grim flashbacks burst in her head. She tried to kick them out but as irrelevant as they were, they resisted.

"You can still come with us. Go pack a bag."

She took the step back.

"I can't do that."

Can't do that.

'Can't do that, Cate. You can't do that.' the wind of these words echoed inside her head leaving her absent and lonely in the room with draped walls.

"Sure you can. It's easy." He paused as if he was short of breath. "We can buy a ticket in the morning." If it could be so easy, she thought.

"What?" he persisted. "You're going to spend Christmas with Abby? Is that it? Or with your - shop girl?"

It was not supposed to hurt her. In no way. Why?

"Stop it, Harge."

"I put nothing past women like you." Kyle almost hissed these words. She felt struck in her stomach. "You married a woman like me." She spat it as it was a revelation. 'Woman like me' echoed again, painfully.

He grabbed her wrists, but she backs away gracefully, with the desperation of convicted. "Come with me now. If you don't - if you - let me - open that car door - if you won't come..."

She watched him with a sudden ineptness. She knew this kind of chantage; she has been there.

"Then what? Then it's over?"

He looked at her sullenly, with disgust of defeated who was not killed but left for nothing.

"Goddamn, you - you were never... cruel."

"Harge..."

He was so miserable, so unbelievably pathetic that she couldn't even look at him. Kyle stepped back and turned around. The whole scene just hung in the air leaving the room in the gloom state of hopelessness. It seemed that despair filled the room from everywhere. Cate herself, in her chest, felt as she was going to sink. She tried to be cautious, careful but she knew that she crossed some lines in that old club room - even doing nothing improper. She was acting normal, living normal, but she felt a terrible mistake, at the root of it all.

"I'm sorry."

The chair creaked - as if it was thunder, war, apocalypse. Todd stood up and with low voice uttered:

"That's a wrap."

* * *

Rooney promised him to call more often. Maybe they would meet soon - if her schedule would allow it. She repeated their conversation, again and again, trying to find even a little trace of confusion that she could compare with the turmoil she experienced in that room with Cate.

Nothing.

She wanted to stop it. Not to think, not to analyze, not to remember. Not to experience this dull feeling of stagnation. The life was boiling around, but Rooney felt like she was watching it behind a thick layer of plexiglass. Nothing happened but why her body was aching?

Rebecca hasn't sent a schedule for the next week. The possibility of meeting Cate was unclear. She forced herself into thinking that it was good, only for the better. Her painful delusion would disappear. Her sick obsession - when did she define this as an obsession - would fade and die.

The urge to see the older woman again was insufferable. To watch her moves, her eyes, her hands seemed as an unfeasible whim, a childish desire of Christmas in June, of an ice cream at killing frost.

Her lips silently moved as she spoke well-memorized lines:

'I want to know. I think. I mean, to ask you... things. But I'm not sure you want that.'

* * *

In the private apartments in Cincinnati, tall blonde woman with the stack of paper and glass in her hands said out loud, with bitterness:

"Ask me things. Please..."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm humbled by your response. Your impatience makes me conscious of my obligations to finish this story. Anyway, we are still far from complete, and I'm happy to watch the real story unfolding. What a time to be alive, huh?
> 
> And once again: thank you. Thank you for reading it, sharing it and caring for it.
> 
> I'm forever grateful for Cate and Rooney being such graceful creatures. It's a blessing to write a story about them.

Suddenly, without any warning, March came to the city in the glorious freshness of the early spring. Grey dull sky has still fought with the bold blue, and this battle seemed everlasting. The crew rushed to the filming at the full speed. Sometimes Todd looked almost feverish as if he was going to throw up with the agitation. The life was normal. Everything was running as it was supposed to do. The seasons changed, the feelings faded. It could work if it weren't a constant sense of hypocrisy in the essence of her being.

Rooney made up her life. At least, she was honest about it with herself; everything else still was somewhere, under the enormous layer of ice. She has met with Cate for a couple of times, not for so long - Todd wanted to keep this unfamiliarity of the evolving relationship. He needed this sort of discovery; when you open some doors, you've never even knocked before. The mere thought of the knocking was terrifying enough, let alone entering the doorway. Todd knew the feeling and, without his awareness, Rooney has found herself on the threshold that she has not ever expected to unlock. The immensity of the things that lay beyond the doorstep was almost paralysing.

The last bastion of her sanity was her eager rejection to define anything. 'Don't give it a name' her inner voice told her every night before she fell asleep. Every meeting with Cate was almost exhausting. Rooney tried to keep in the fictitious frames that she has invented to save her from diving into this sick obsession. 'It's not right, not at all' - if there was an alarm, it could already has died in the hysterical throb.

She was not used to this kind of things when you can't stop thinking about someone. Like this someone filled the world, blew it with sharp senses, and painfully populated your consciousness refusing to leave you alone, in your safe harbour of nothing.

"Miss Mara?" a voice behind the door of her dressing room was so sweet and cautious that Rooney felt herself back to reality with the gentle knocking of the soft landing. "Yes?" she answered, standing up and opening the door. A small woman in her early forties looked at her with the motherly attention.

"We're ready to dress you up. If you would follow me..." Rooney smiled and said with a sudden relief, "Yes, yes. Let's go!"

* * *

 

The dress was so simple, yet so right for her character. Rooney couldn't stop to adore Sandy's ability to see the whole picture and never lose any detail. Sandy was a perfect master of her craft and a seasoned artist of the paintings that constituted people's perception of the films. Even the hat and scarf were just right, so suitable in its childish outlook.

The only thing they couldn't decide on was the wig and make up. What should they do with her hair? Should she look more conservative or a little bit fashionable? They tried different colours and shapes in attempts to give her an innocence of Therese mixed with the willingness to explore the world ahead of her. They took a lot of photos, and Rooney just heard them mumbling - sometimes approving, sometimes disgruntled.

"Okay, let's try this one," Ashley and Jack said it simultaneously. "Yeah, right?" Jack scratched his eyebrow. "Let's use this look for the screen test." Rooney nodded and sighed, "Do your magic."

She liked when the makeup artists danced around her in their witch rituals. That was a moment when she resurrected in something unimaginable, unknown and exciting. She could never forget the feeling she had on the set of "The Girl" - when she got rid of her eyebrows. It was a complete reincarnation mixed with a dangerous substance of obscurity that was overwhelmingly daunting, seducing, liberating.

To be reborn as Therese Belivet - for Rooney, it has never been easier. She instinctively knew the trick; she has already sealed the foundation of her growing insanity. Just a little bit of makeup, the mere touch of brush fulfilled her essence. Nothing more, because less was more. Less Rooney, more Therese. Or was it more Rooney, less Therese?

"Okay, there you go," Ashley murmured, brushing the final strokes. "Jodi, please, take Miss Mara to the screen test. We're coming in a minute!"

Rooney opened her eyes. The girl with skin of the baked milk stared back. She was very young, very naive and aware that something is bound to happen. She is doomed to change, to open something enormous. The girl in the mirror didn't know if she was capable of facing it, but was there a choice? "Miss Mara?" Jodi's sweet voice rescued her once again. "Please, follow me."

* * *

 

Ed and Todd were sitting in the small room that was dimmed and flooded with light at the same time. The room was stuffy, full of people who regularly checked the yellowish tint of the past movies, screen setups, wires, and bulbs. Everything was buzzing, and Todd liked it. Life was in its full glory; the magic of art was going on right there.

"Therese Belivet, a screen test, please!" Todd said in the loud voice. The mumbling stopped immediately, and all eyes turned to the closed door. Ed nodded to his crew, and the tumblers went clicking. Rooney inhaled - as she was preparing to jump into the deep and cold water - and opened the door.

There she was. The young, small, even tiny woman. She stood there in her hat and scarf, with an indecisiveness of lost and a naivete of a child. The lights hit her eyes with the cruelty of stupefaction. Rooney stood right in front of the screen, and the cameras were slowly swirling around. Todd sighed. She was one hundred percent Therese. She was more Therese than anyone could imagine. His head was disrupting with delight and fear of this creature that they gave life deliberately.

The room was whirling. The crew moved around her while she stood in the center of the lights, seeing nothing, hearing everything. The eyes were on her, and there was nothing more confusing and encouraging than the people who were silently supporting her.

Her heart froze as she was thrown into the open space. Everything slowed down; she focused and tried to understand if she was hallucinating. But no, it was a sound of heels. There was no conundrum. She felt that coming and she has already surrendered. In the surreal slowness, the door handle went down, and the door opened.

Cate stepped in.

Everything made sense. The timeless, gracious woman caught her eyes, and she smiled - almost invisibly. Rooney felt like she was plummeting into the profound abyss of the ocean. She was the mere drop; but she wished to be this drop, she desired to dissolve in this woman in her furs. Rooney was trembling inside. She couldn't look away, even for a moment. These hands with gloves became the object of her worship. In the split second Rooney was ready to get down on her knees - so small and so thirsting she was.

* * *

 

Rooney couldn't see that Cate's fingers were shaking. The tunnel vision of the young woman standing in the circle of lights was almost unbearable. God knew how much strength was taken to keep her lips tight. She almost gave up, and her mouth twitched in the escaping smile. Cate knew that Rooney saw it because she smiled back - so timidly, so insecure that Cate's heart almost sank. There was so much hope, the illicit hope that they couldn't allow themselves. However, it was present, in all its forbidden vivacity.

The image stood in front of her eyes even when she left the room. She shut the door; she breathed almost hysterically. This girl somehow got under her skin. Her reserved nature, her watchful eyes, timorous smile - everything in her reminded Cate of walking on the thinnest ice. The young woman was making steps, the ones she was unsure of. And as tiny and unobvious Rooney thought they were, they shuttered Cate, disarming her, dismantling her fortress brick by brick.

She exhaled and closed her eyes.

At the end of the tunnel, she saw the light. In the light was a tiny figure.

Oh, how did she like this ridiculous cap.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to my readers: I've never thought there would be a Chapter 9. However, it's up, and you played a huge role in it. Thank you for support, you keep me up and running.
> 
> Note #2 to my readers: to write this I actually needed a drink. Very strong one. But I still hope it's readable.
> 
> Angry rant: well, BAFTA, you're mad. On behalf of the gay women, I feel rejected. I feel offended. You ignored my culture, my aesthetic, my way of living. It's the first time I might see the film suited for my upbringing and lifestyle, and you rejected it. Yay, heteronormativity. Fuck you.

"There," Derek, the second assistant director, pointed at a woman sitting atop on the stairs. Her hair was gray; her shoes were well-worn and comfortable. Cate figured out that it was the woman who played Florence, her housemaid. In a single motion, she flew up the stairs, bowed and offered her hand. "Nice to meet you, I'm Cate." The woman didn't expect it and stood up rather lubberly as if a wave of shyness washed her away. She almost bobbed and shook Cate's hand. "I'm Ann. It's a pleasure."

The house in the suburbs of Cincinnati was not pompous but rigorous in the sense of its rich astringency. The building obviously had a history, but it lost color in some unknown battle. Cate inhaled; for a moment she thought that it was irrational to be here, in these clothes, watching these people moving around in very precise and sensible ways. The rooms were lit with the bright lights and full of buzzing sounds. Local musicians were dressed in white and laughing with nervousness and sincerity of the most significant event in their lives. In this particular moment, Cate felt invisible, almost dissolved in the set. The boundaries between real life and cinema faded again - but just for a blink. Ann, still staying there in the slight awe, coughed and tapped her on her shoulder. "Mister Haynes is looking for you, Mrs. Blanchett." "Ah," Cate winced and smiled awkwardly. "Thank you."

Todd stood down the stairs and waved his hand. "Cate! We're ready for the dance scene!" She nodded and, with a sudden hesitation, turned back to Ann. In her eyes bewilderment was mixed with the despair of those whose fate is sealed.

* * *

 The filming has already started, but Rooney was still waiting for her first day. The planned scene was the bar scene where she was sitting with the guys. She almost made herself calm and focused trying to avoid the unnecessary distractions. But the one kept stalking her: in the mornings, her mind did the cruel trick with the clicking sounds of heels and the haunting movement of the door handle. Down and up. At this moment she always woke up, sweaty, trembling, consciously begging herself to breathe.

Charlie called her twice. Both times Rooney was not in the mood to speak, but she forced herself to sound normal, almost boring. He never noticed her inner resistance. Otherwise, for him, there was a hope to get back to their relationship without a cold distance that they found out themselves some time ago. At least, he was longing for it, imagining that she needs him again.

And he was right: she needed him. In some perverted, insanely crooked way. Rooney wanted him to be an anchor of her habitual way of living. The rollercoaster of her turbulent mind and idee fixe of the woman she has barely known yet felt moonstruck by her mere presence left her in the dire straits of some sort of grounding.

Rooney turned to the other side of the bed. She couldn't fall asleep. The noises of the sinking city were almost lulling but thoroughly tucked uneasiness made its way with the stubbornness of a champion. Two days from this moment was scheduled the first scene with Cate, and Rooney replayed her behaving scenario, again and again, never satisfied with the outcomes.

What was she expected to do? What was she going to do? These questions were stupid and exhausting. Well, she will be acting, as well as she can. She will be cool and professional. She won't be lost. She won't be drowned in the sights and scents of Cate. She won't forget her lines, her words, and how to speak. She will be normal.

"What's the point of 'normal'?" she asked herself angrily. The fixation on the mythical 'normal' drew her crazy. For God's sake, she was filming the movie about two homosexual women. It was completely normal to fall in love with one.

"Wait." Her voice in the empty room sounded scandalous. It was so loud as if it was an insult at the bazaar place in the big ancient city. But in the dark, cold hotel room, it bedazzled her with the impudence of a said word. "No." She even pinched her thigh. "Nonono." Rooney sat straight in the middle of her bed. A dry and hot air of prohibited articulation, like a shockwave, covered her body and shook her.

Her fingers were numb when she grabbed a phone. With the irrelevant need of self-redemption and the desire for punishment Rooney dialed the number.

"Charlie, I can't sleep. How are you?"

* * *

 That morning everything was different. Colors and lights made Cincinnati bright and distant beyond expression. Rooney rode to the set with a disturbing wish to simultaneously run away and to stand still forever.

She went out of the car and immediately bumped into Jerry, head of the hair department. "Oh, hello!" he seemed to be happy to see her. "Cate is getting ready. Kay and Jeni are waiting for you." She froze and forced a weak smile. "Okay, then, I'll better be going." He could barely hear her but nodded and ran away.

Every step was torture. However, this torture was poisonously sweet. She counted seconds that turned into minutes before she would see Cate again. The scene they were preparing for could make Rooney vomit with anxiety: it was a night at Chicago's hotel, right after their characters were caught in Waterloo. She listened to herself in awe trying to remember every feeling that pierced her in the cruelest manner. She felt alive, and she has never been more vibrant.

Rooney greeted her assistants. They took her in their caring hands, and she tried to relax in this familiar feeling of being caressed by people who transformed her into another human being. But this time, it was different: she couldn't say if she underwent the transformation at all.

When she entered the room, Cate stood close to Todd. They spoke in the quiet voices, intimately bowing to each other. Rooney could hear only snatches of conversation, but her heart started to beat faster as she overheard Cate's words.

"We should be careful," she said. "She's delicate. Are you sure we should go this way?"

"Yes." Todd was firm. "We need it. Don't worry, we'll be cautious."

Cate rubbed her nose as she gathered herself for the next phrase.

"I just want to be sure we agree on that. I don't want any harm. For anyone."

Todd looked up at her. He felt this subtle reticence that he couldn't grasp. Cate looked as if her integrity was questioned by this film and she took it as a matter of pride.

He turned around and noticed Rooney. In the sweet pajamas, she looked ridiculously pathetic. An invisible palm clenched Cate's throat and made her choke on the half of the sentence.

"So, are we ready?" Rooney pulled down her pajamas and shifted from foot to foot. She tried not to look at Cate but was painfully aware of her attention.

"I guess so," Todd glanced back. "Cate?"

With an awkward smile, she nodded. A bravery of soldier before the battle poured in her veins.

"So, Rooney, don't be afraid - I won't bite you. And I hope you won't bite me either!"

* * *

"Silence!"

The whole set went still. There were four or five people; other were out to respect the intimacy of the scene. The lights went dimmer, and she heard the soft creaking of the one of the twin beds. Cate hunched and smoked over a nightstand with a phone handset.

"Action!"

She moved forward insecurely. With an inhale she stepped into the scene and with a habitual gesture turned off the light. For a moment, she stood still and watched as Cate murmured in the phone her lines. A flashback to her conversation with Charlie struck Rooney right between the ribs, leaving her suffocated. She exhaled and shivered, pulling a blanket and climbing into the other bed.

"Thank you, pet... Oh, you know. Shattered. Sickened... I hope so... No... Talk tomorrow... And thank you... I will. Night."

Rooney tightened on the bed. Cate put the phone down and look nowhere, throwing the room into a sulky frustration. The silence was endless, but Rooney felt how the tender, very sad gaze penetrated her skin, going straight into her blood and making it boil. The air thickened and exploded with husky voice of the older woman who sat so close and so far away that Rooney couldn't move, keeping the precious distance where she was still comfortable.

"You don't have to sleep over there."

She knew that her time was running out, and soon, the fragile balance would be disrupted. Hypnotized, she got up and came to Cate. The warm, delicate fingers never gave her the slightest chance to think, as they were inviting her into the arms, closer to the body. They left burns on her skin; they stole the breath from her lungs. Rooney couldn't understand how she ended up wrapped in Cate's arms and legs. Everything was floating, the room spun at the cosmic speed. Her heart burst into the millions of pieces when Rooney felt the gentle lips sending her body to vacuum, kissing her eyes, delicately touching her cheeks and nose. When Cate reached her lips, her body turned into the celebration of life. Fireworks inside her muscles left traces into goosebumps. Suddenly Rooney wanted to laugh, loudly, ruining the moment. She didn't care. In a desperate attempt to preserve the moment, to print an everlasting impression on her skin, she started to kiss Cate, to search her lips, to explore her body with voracious palms. Was there a cut? It didn't matter. She lost the complete awareness of the moment; she was destroyed by it without any regret.

If destruction looked like that, she was ready to suffer.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to my readers: I'm sorry for a lack of updates. I've been working a lot and ended up ill and depressed. So here go my apologies for the delay. But your support makes this story possible. Keep reviewing!
> 
> Note to Academy: well, you're the sick bastards. Thanks for nothing. But anyway, The Movie won everything in our lives and hearts. Amen to that. 

 

'We need to fly, Andrew,' she said. The weary wrinkles around her mouth deepened in the twilight of their apartments. 

'I can do that. I can do that.' Her husband wobbled in the chair. His head was shaking in disbelief. 

'No. We will do this together.' Cate took Andrew's hand. It was cold and limp; Andrew was almost lifeless. Tears silently rolled from his eyes. 

His father was dead. Her father-in-law, one of the kindest men in the world, passed away. She felt the uneasiness; a trauma of losing her father has been haunting her for ages, and she has still been afraid that Andrew can die like that. And now he seemed alone, as a part of him vanished forever. It was true; he and his father were close. But Cate froze inside in the pervasive dread of death, and she couldn't move to hug him. The fear of losing it all took her again. 

'No, you've got a schedule,' he murmured inaudibly. Andrew tried to cling to the last stable thing: work. 'We can shift everything. You know it. Let's go. I'll call Georgina; we're taking a charter flight.' Cate looked at him, and her heart clenched in a seizure. His red eyes looked ill and swollen. She squeezed his cold hand again and sighed. 'Come here,' Cate opened her hands. He heavily stood up and make two steps towards her. Then he crushed on the floor, hugging her knees in the silent cry. Andrew didn't make a sound, but his big man body was shaking. She caressed his hair and went down beside him. 

Tears finally filled her eyes. 

* * *

'What?'

'Yes. I'm so sorry for Andrew and her.' Todd rubbed his nose. He looked perplexed and overwhelmed. Rooney sank into a chair, squeezing its handles with whitened fingers. 

'So, do we stop the production?' 

He paused. It was a question of concern for the team, but they were working with an incredible effort to let it down.

'We can't do that. We're shifting filming and exchanging the scenes. I'm afraid your scenes with Cate are going to be filmed in the last week of production.' 

'Okay. No problems,' she shrugged, not knowing where to hide her hands that suddenly became long and clumsy. 

Todd hesitantly looked at her. Then he made a step closer and clenched her shoulder, as he always did when he had no words. 'It's going to be okay.' Rooney nervously nodded and scarcely smiled. 

* * *

Rooney stormed into her apartment, finally ripping off the indifferent face she was sporting in the car. She mechanically smiled, nodded, talking, shaking hands, waving goodbye - but she hated every minute of it. She tried to talk herself into the cruel mantra of 'nothing personal, it happens, it's none of my business', but deep inside she knew she was bullshitting every attempt. 

It was a scene. That was exactly she was repeating for the past days. It was just the scene. She has read it a lot. She has imagined it a lot. But somehow the reality burned expectations to ashes and left her empty inside, longing for more, craving the women. Rooney suppressed every memory of that day. At the moments she thought she was mad. It seemed that she existed in the parallel universe and was watching the whole story unfolding from the outside. But after that, she was drowning in the feeling of Cate's lips again and again. 

And now she was back to reality. Why did she feel like she was abandoned? 

It was utterly selfish. Rooney was disgusted by herself; the thought was humiliating. How could she even think of it? It was Cate's family, it was their personal tragedy, and there was she, with her childish desire to be in the center of attention, even when the death was knocking around. She had no rights even to think of that. She was not a part of Cate's life. She was just inventing the whole thing. 

But the creepy feeling of abandonment still was present. Rooney could feel how it was hiding in the darkest corners of her being. It soaked into her arteries and veins, bronchial tubes and tissues. The panic inhabited her in the most insidious way: from the inside. 

Her first urge was to vomit in disgusted spasm; the second - to call Rebecca and order the flowers for the funerals. She ordered herself to breathe. The blood pulsated in her ears, and her head was wobbling as it has never belonged to her body. After ten minutes of erratic tossing her body between the walls, she sat on the bed and frantically drew air. She howled. 

* * *

On the way back to Cincinnati, she stared at the wanton dirty clouds. Andrew decided to spend more time in Australia, but she needed to fly back. At the airport, he hugged her - a little bit awkward, with the clumsiness of a teenager who faced a life the first time and didn't like it. She kissed him gently and stroked his cheek. Andrew smiled and hugged her again. 

'I love you,' he said only with lips. 'I love you too,' she whispered, kissed his hand briefly and disappeared into the gate. 

For a moment, she thought that her world went shuttered, but it was only for good. They were in that together, she and Andrew. The clouds passed under the wing in the chaotic order of nature. Cate watched them diluting in the air and emerging again, trying to unwind her head from the heaviness of the past days. The crew expected her to be back and functional so that they could follow the schedule. 

The last scene before departure flashed in her head and her guts shrank. On the fingertips, she felt the dance of the Rooney's skin, her desperate meditation on Cate's lips and the pulsating warmth of her longing body. The way the young woman pressed herself against Cate's hips was unbearable. The avalanche of suppressed emotion collapsed on her, making her shiver in the forbidden sensations. 

Now she definitely could not allow herself to feel it. It was unfair; it was improper. But it felt right, and it was so wrong. The gravity of her feelings smashed her. Cate tried to confront it with a practical reasoning as if it was her last hope. No, no, no. There was a tragedy, there was her family, there was her life. All of it made sense. Rooney's body and desperate lips made nonsense. And that nonsense eroded her within. 

Maybe for the first time in her life, she simultaneously wanted to be back at filming and run far away from it. The main rule has always stayed the same: no personal involvement. Compassion, understanding - those were all right and even mandatory, but involvement was prohibited. And now it flourished out of control. 

The wing dissected the clouds without any regret. But the clouds were still indifferent: they gathered back as nothing happened. Suddenly Cate felt a pinch of jealousy. How would it be easier if she was a cloud? 

* * *

Her eyes were in a constant search for the familiar figure. Rooney didn't know why she was there. Every time she got asked, she came up with the silly excuses. Finally, she found a corner and hid there, between two boxes. The stupidity of the situation didn't bother her. Her waiting made her crazy enough to drive to the filming set in the hope of a mere glimpse. As the most suspicious groupie, she hunted every possibility to see her crush. 

Half an hour later the movie set came in motion. The tall blonde woman in her distinctive furs filled the place with calm and equanimity. Rooney held the breath and shut her eyes. The abandonment inside started to dissolve. 

When she opened her eyes, she met Cate's gaze. She looked at her with a strange inquiring expression. 

Rooney stared back. Almost unconsciously, her lips rounded, and she silently uttered 'I'm so sorry.'

Cate nodded and turned away. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to my readers: I know, I know. I have promised and not delivered. What a bitch I am! The thing is, I am a grown-up who is running from the homeland in hope for a better life. And I move a lot because my passport doesn't give me many options for the extended stays without obtaining some visas. To sustain myself on-the-go, I need to work a lot. When you've got a chronic depression, it can be a little bit complicated. Some of you were sweet, encouraging me to go. Some of you were mean, accusing me of giving up. However, I appreciate your feedback. Your support is what keeps this story alive, even with the periods of clinical death. Thank you.
> 
> P.S. I'm rewriting the earlier chapters, adding some details and refining them. Maybe you'll consider to re-read them. I'm going to do it for the first six chapters.

 

* * *

'Oh, how sweet it is!' She murmured into her phone looking at the picture her husband has sent to her earlier. A little puppy in Andrew's hands looked happy and peaceful, trying to lick his face that finally smoothed after the days of a dark mourning. Step by step, the life has come back to his body; the kids kept him busy, and now they adopted the puppy - the adorable little thing that was jumping and looking for constant attention. Cate was relieved to see him like that. It was still a long time to go, but it got a little bit better. The life, in the end, took over again and succumbed the horror of the death.

'Yes! How's the filming?' Andrew had asked this question over and over again. The fixation on the work and ongoing projects was helping him to keep a peace of mind. Usually, she answered those questions with pleasure. The cinematography was their shared passion, after all. They both lived in the freedom it gave them. Now Cate had become irritated; a denial inside her was so intense that sometimes she felt an urge to give up and tell him that she was too tired to discuss it. However, she knew that he needed her to stay sane. And she talked about her work - every time he asked.

'It's fine. We're half done here. Some things are complicated, but Todd is quite inventive. Liz told me she was going to contact you. Did she?' Cate tried to slip from discussing the filming itself, going straight to the business. Andrew didn't notice the trick.

'No, she didn't. I know what are you talking about. Probably, I'll need to fly back to Cincinnati…'

'No!' Cate interrupted him and, frightened, covered her mouth with her palm. She didn't expect that. Andrew didn't expect it either. The awkward pause haunted the line.

'Why?' He finally asked. She inhaled, not knowing what to say.

'You have the puppy now, remember? It needs your attention. And what you can do that I can't? I've got the power of attorney, so if you need to sign something or…' Cate tried her best to sound casual. However, Andrew didn't buy it.

'I'm alright, Cate.' He was serious. 'I can manage. Don't make me a small boy just because you're afraid of death. I'm okay. I'll go through. Don't deprive me of my life.'

She felt a pinch of conscience and a strange relieve. This combination itself was insane. She took a pause.

'Okay. I am sorry, Andrew. I'm just being silly and protective.'

'You are.' She heard how on the other end he smiled when he said that.

'I still think that the kids and puppy need you more than the movie. Just tell me what to do and I'll do. Okay?'

'I'll think about it. I need to speak to Liz first. Then I'll think. Alright?'

'Okay, honey.' Cate didn't like the answer, but she didn't want to argue.

'Love you.'

'Love you too.'

* * *

'What the hell was it?' Cate asked herself when she hung up. She knew the answer, but it didn't make things easier. A wave of self-punishment was ready to break out and crush her mind.

The treacherous 'no' had nothing to do with Andrew's condition. That 'no' was all about her. Cate hadn't wanted him to be here since she saw Rooney at the filming scene a couple of days ago after she was back on the set. Rooney was waiting for her at the outskirts, trying to hide from the intrusive eyes. Her lips formed that forlorn 'I'm sorry' and Cate couldn't take away her eyes from the begging face. The girl didn't know what she was doing, and this ignorance was a reason for success.

Cate knew that Andrew's presence would be a lifeline for her. She won't do anything to hurt him, and she was good enough to balance on the neat thread of the affections and obligations. That's why Cate has preferred to work on the sets with him. She knew what was she capable of, and Andrew was the anchor of her sanity.

Now - for the first time in her life - Cate refused his lifesaving presence. If she was to drown, let it be painful but without any victims. Cate knew that Andrew would feel her collapse within the seconds of their meeting. But her acting still worked when the phone rang.

Cate hid her face in the palms. She knew her wrongdoings, and she could easily accept all of them except that one. The balance was a fragile thing there, and she sensed how the soil shook under her feet.

'What a terrible person I am,' she squeezed her face and stood up abruptly. There was no road back, and it was her choice.

* * *

That day Cincinnati was warm, but Rooney shivered in her coat and scarf. She was nervously clenching her gloves. Jake, who always seemed confident and buoyant, stood close and murmured some sticky song. They were waiting near the Frankenberg's entrance while the crew had been working with setups.

'Warm, right?' Jake said and smiled.

'Yeah,' she answered vacantly and kept watching the set.

'Why are you shivering tho?' He persisted trying to attract her attention and ease the bothersome waiting.

'Don't know. Wind?' Rooney uncertainly waved her hand around.

'No wind here.' He giggled. 'But you made one with waving.'

'So, I've got all reasons to be cold now, right?' She asked him, forcing herself to joke back.

For a moment, Rooney thought that she has noticed the furs and the blond hair. She wasn't sure, but her heart sank into her guts and buried itself there. She swallowed her anxiety and tried to focus.

'Okay, guys,' Todd clapped. 'We're ready to go. Rooney, Jake, are you ready?'

They nodded and went to the set.

'Silence!'

Rooney felt Jake's gaze. It made her uncomfortable because she started to feel the people and things around in the acute clarity. It scared her, but Rooney refused to surrender to those feelings.

'Action!'

Jake's voice interfered her space. Her heart started to beat in her stomach.

'Where's this place in Jersey?'

'The country, I think. I don't really know.' If she had ever cared where that car would take her.

'My uncle Sal lives in Union City, and he claims it's pretty dangerous out there at night…'

She interrupted him, a little bit harsh even for the script.

'It's not Union City.'

'Okay, okay.'

The car entered the scene. Rooney's mouth twitched, and all her muscles tightened. She exhaled through her nose to calm down.

'There's my ride.'

Her legs were shaking, but she was ready to run. However, she paced herself and, slightly bouncing, went to the car. Jake followed her behind and opened the door.

Rooney saw Cate's smile. The blood returned to her veins and the heat inflated her body. She felt the smell of the elder woman. The long fingers in gloves hypnotized her completely. Rooney shut the door and rolled the window down, not being able to focus on something else. Jake leaned forward to kiss her.

'Eight o'clock?'

'Eight o'clock.' She answered and smiled. 'Never,' her mind screamed.

Jake leaned further and stretched his hand.

'Don't touch her,' an inexplicable aggression inside Rooney skyrocketed and stung her. She almost said it, but in the last second, she woke up to the scene.

'Hi,' he said casually.

'Hello.' Pause. 'Carol Aird.' Cate's voice melted Rooney's skin. Everything inside her tiny body was boiling.

In the slow motion, she was watching how their palms touched, and they shook hands.

'Richard Semco. Glad to meet you.'

'Likewise.' That intonation burned a hole in her chest. Rooney turned to Jake and looked at him with a lost expression.

'She wanted to meet you.'

'Therese speaks very highly of you.' Cate's hand gently touched Rooney's thigh. She froze, feeling alive only at the point of their contact.

'Well, that's - swell. So you'll get her back safe and sound?'

Cate smiled ironically and saluted to him. Rooney impatiently turned to Jake once again. For a moment, he hesitated and then touched her chin slightly. The mere feeling of his fingers made her stomach hurt, but she handled that.

'Love you.'

She rolled up the window. Now there were only two of them. The car moved, and Rooney almost blacked out in the joy of Cate's proximity.

* * *

Rooney had never laughed that much in her life. Cate made her alive in the ways she could never imagine. Rooney was soaking every word, every movement, every breath of the woman. The reality was better than she has ever dreamt about it. Every time Cate touched her, the million of the neurons in her head blew with fire. After the six hours of shooting and reshooting, Todd declared a break. They went to the quick dinner - all together - and Rooney found it pleasant despite her aversion to the shared meals. On the dawn, they went back to the set, where the crew finished preparations for the tunnel scene.

'Okay, girls. We'll shoot this one slowly, alright?

Rooney nodded and went to the car. It still kept the smell of Cate's perfume. Rooney drew air in her nose, observing how her brain falls in the ecstatic abyss. The door opened, and Cate sat behind the wheel.

'Ready?'

Rooney nodded, still high from the smell and taste of the reality.

Todd and Ed hopped to the back seats.

'Okay. Now we can start. Cate, Rooney? Fine? Let's go.' Todd said. Cate turned the key, and the car came to life in trembling of the old engine.

They slowly started off. Rooney couldn't look away from Cate. The woman belonged here, in that interior of leather upholstery and mahogany dashboard. It complemented her grace and immense charm perfectly.

Cate said something, Rooney replied. Something nonsensical, utterly stupid, but she didn't care. The whole world was floating in the sight of Cate, filling Rooney's lungs with the rhythms of the inner music. Her eyes stopped at Cate's thighs, in the silk stockings. The urge to touch them, to feel the smoothness of the refined texture was almost unbearable. The mere presence of that woman intoxicated her, making her helpless in front of her undisclosed desires.

* * *

Cate gripped the wheel. Her fingers were aching, but it was the last bastion of sanity. She watched Rooney's face carefully, and it told the stories Cate didn't want to hear. The slightly open mouth was begging for attention, and the lost eyes were entangling her body in worshipping adoration. She silently prayed for Todd's ignorance, but he seemed charmed by the dynamics and not paying any attention to the real tension. The semi-darkness of the tunnel didn't help, throwing the bizarre lights on Rooney's face. She was dauntingly staring at Cate's thighs. In her eyes, Cate spotted the hungry reflection that only insanely in love can have. At that moment, she smelled the smoke of burning bridges behind her back. Cate stretched her hand and put the radio on.

_'I'll be so alone without you_

_Maybe you'll be lonesome too, and blue.'_

It snatched Rooney from her trance. She raised her eyes up and looked at Cate in disbelief. Cate smiled.

_'Just remember till you're home again_

_You belong to me.'_

Todd's voice rang like a bell in the empty church.

'It's a wrap. Let's go for the other round. But this one was fantastic.'

Rooney shook her head.

'Yes, it was.'


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to my readers: thank you for reading this. You make me feel needed in the middle of nowhere, in complete loneliness. Thank you for being with me in these tough moments of my life. Your appreciation gives me life.

 

She woke up late. Todd mercifully gave them a day out after the long night of shooting in the tunnel. The sun was trying to break into her room, cutting the thick curtains. Rooney didn't want to see the sunlight; she sank into the lifesaving darkness of the blanket.

'You belong to me,' played in her head on repeat. She was not sure that she didn't imagine it all. The sight of Cate's thighs in the thin stockings, her furs, her perfume, her smile - everything was outside of that world, in some parallel Universe. The voice, slicing her veins, still was the best sound in her life. Cate said something that Rooney couldn't remember, but did it matter? Nothing compared to the dance of the goosebumps on her skin when the hands in the leather gloves squeezed the wheel.

Every time Todd said 'Cut,' she startled. Cate relaxed, and they turned around, with a police patrol that escorted them to the beginning of the tunnel again and again. Rooney was grateful for every second of it. They had spent four hours in that scene, and when it was over, she was hesitant to go to her apartment. She wanted more, much more of that woman.

Her phone vibrated under her pillow. She outstretched her hand and grabbed it. Charlie's smiling face was blinking on the screen. 'Damn,' she whispered. 'Not you.'

'Hello?' His voice sounded distantly but joyfully.

'Hey, Charlie,' she replied and tried to smile. Even under the blanket she felt the tension in her tone.

'What's up? How are you? You haven't called for two days, so I've decided to call you first thing in the morning.'

'I've been busy,' Rooney said. 'Tight schedule, we're a little bit late.'

"Liar," she thought. They were perfectly on schedule; she just didn't want to talk to him.

'I miss you.'

The awkward silence was palpable. Rooney pretended she didn't hear him.

'Sorry, what? I can't hear you.'

'I miss you,' he repeated. 'Can I come?'

"Damn you, Charlie," she silently cursed.

'I'm not sure. We enter the last weeks of shooting. It's going to be a mess. What if we meet right after I'll finish here?' She didn't want to see him either. Not now, when she had no ground under her feet.

'Okay. Just promise me, you'll hop onto plane right after you're done.' She could say that he was disappointed. However, she couldn't care less.

'I promise you.' Rooney replied. She could promise it - and she knew that she would break that pledge. That thought stunned her and made everything easier.

'Good. I love you.'

A weak sting of panic bit her and dissolved immediately. She smiled to that feeling and lied again.

'Love you too, Charlie. See you.'

* * *

Coffee in her cup was steaming. A small milk jug stood right there, just in case Cate would like to add some in the hot black liquid. Her maid did it every morning, however, Cate never touched the milk. But today she was looking at it long enough to sigh and tip it over to the cup.

Cincinnati became warmer. The sky turned into bright, welcoming blue with sun coloring streets and buildings. She woke up late; her head was aching, but this pain was only an echo of her usual migraines. Andrew wrote her a couple of messages last night, telling her how he missed her. That was something new. He had not done it for a long time. And there they were - those messages she couldn't reply immediately.

Cate sipped her coffee. The milk made it creamy, with a smack of the childhood. It gave her unexpected bravery, bordering with foolishness. She took her phone and typed a message.

_I miss you too, honey. Something happened? I've been late at shooting. Love you._

She didn't expect an immediate reply, but it came. It was strange, considering the late night in Australia.

_Nothing. Just felt like I need to say that I miss you. I don't want to lose you. Too._

She froze. Did he feel something? Did she show something? Was it some rash word? Cate's hands were shaking, but she typed back.

_You're not going to lose me. I will be here for you, you know it. Don't worry._

She looked at her erratic fingers and didn't believe it. She had done nothing to be nervous like that. It was nothing. Nothing improper. Nothing wrong.

_I know. I'm going to sleep now. I've been waiting for your reply. We'll be alright, yes?_

Maybe he was still coping with his father's death. The strange ways his mind took, she thought. But Cate was used to it. Just that, she thought with relief. He just didn't want her to vanish.

_Yes. Good night._

Her hands were still shaking.

* * *

Rooney rubbed her hands. The sky was gray, but the air was warm; only the occasional cold gust was making her freeze. She had heard the rolling laugh, and Jake appeared at the scene. He was wearing a plain coat with a hat, dragging an old black bicycle.

'Hello!' He shouted waived his hand. 'How's it going?'

'Hello,' she replied and smiled. 'Nice weather, isn't it?'

Jake nodded and opened his mouth to say something when Todd clapped his hands.

'Almost ready, guys!' He yelled. Rooney had spoken to him already, and they had briefly run through the scene. Now she was waiting for his last instructions.

'Okay,' Todd said in his normal voice. 'Rooney, Therese is puzzled. Well, you know that feeling, I think.'

She blushed. A little burst of panic kicked in her stomach. Todd never noticed and went ahead.

'Jake, you're sincere and pushing, and I want you to move as you're pushing. Walk a couple of steps past Therese, just following her as she's going away from you. See?'

'Yeah. Got it.' Jake nodded as he was contemplating something.

'Alright. Let's try.'

She came out of the record shop. Jack turned around and smiled at her.

'Let's walk. I want to drop this at home.'

'Your wish is my command.' He nodded and replied.

Rooney slowly went along the block. Jake was following her, slightly behind. She was thinking about his disturbing presence. Rooney liked him. However, he was reminding her of something she didn't want to think.

'Find what you wanted?' His voice caught her out of the blue. Rooney shrugged and said:

'Yeah… Something for someone at the store.' Her heart felt warmer while it was nothing, in particular, she was saying. Just the script.

'You up for the jazz club later on?' He sounded casually and mostly like Charlie. "Oh, goddamit," flashed in her head.

'Oh, I don't know.' She squeezed. Yes, he reminded her of Charlie, and now it was bad timing.

'S'fine.' Jake paused. 'But you should stop by on Christmas sometime. My Mom's sort of planning on it.'

'Christmas… That's for families.' She was concealing her trembling voice as well as she could. 'I'd feel - I don't know…"

He interrupted her.

'You are family, Terry.'

'Cut!' Todd shouted. 'Okay, guys, it was incredible. You grasped it almost immediately. Let's roll further and shoot the next conversation like that, at the same breath. Feel like that?' His voice was full of hope.

Rooney nodded. She wanted to get out of that scene. She felt like it was a bomb inside her, and it was ticking.

They were waiting at the corner when Todd finally yelled 'Action!'

She quickly went to the empty lot.

'I'm thinking of putting together a portfolio, you know, of my pictures.' She was half-turning to Jake, trying not to glance at him. 'Start taking portraits, even. Apply for jobs. Maybe at a newspaper. Maybe at the Times.' She took a breath. 'Dannie knows someone…"

Jake cut her short.

'Have you been thinking any more about Europe?'

She didn't reply.

'Terry?' He insisted.

Rooney stopped and turned around. She looked at him, suddenly knowing that scene in details, feeling that pressure. The distant echo of her previous conversations with Charlie rang in her head.

'What?' He asked, looking at her with amusement.

'How many times have you been in love?' She finally asked.

He grinned, not sure how to react.

'Whoa. Never.' Jake paused and lowered his voice. 'Until you.'

She frowned and furiously retorted.

'Don't lie. You told me about those two other girls.'

'Come on. They were…' He lingered. 'I had sex with them. That's not the same thing.'

She huffed.

'Meaning… I'm different because we haven't…' She lowered her voice too. 'Gone all the way?'

'No, no - that's not what I,' Jake stopped. 'Hey, what's this all about? I love you. That's what's different.'

She looked at him and nodded. They resumed walking.

'Have you ever been in love with a boy?' She finally said, feeling how her heart sped up. Jake was silent.

'No,' he finally said.

'But you've heard of it?' She persisted.

'Of course.' He replied. 'I mean, have I heard of people like that? Sure.'

She sniffed. The wave inside her raised up and rolled through her body.

'I don't mean people like that. I mean two people who just…' What? She couldn't find a definition. What was it? What was she feeling? 'Fall in love. With each other.' The words scared her. She shivered and went on. 'Say, a boy and a boy. Out of the blue.'

'I don't know anyone like that.' He slouched as if he was saying something inappropriate. 'But I'll tell you this,' he stumbled. 'There's always some reason for it. In the background.' Jake added and straightened again.

Rooney turned to him and scanned him cautiously, walking down across the street.

'So, you don't think it could just,' she paused, hesitating. 'Happen to somebody, just,' Rooney blushed. 'Anybody?'

"It could just happen to me," she thought. "To me."

Jake shrugged.

'No. I don't. What are you saying? Are you in love with a girl?'

Rooney shuddered. She expected that question, but it never sounded like that - like a verdict, a condemnation of guilty. It had been said, and when she heard it, she knew that she wasn't hallucinating.

'No!' She shouted, looking like a little animal in danger. Rooney felt that it was obvious, her deceit. They stopped at the building. Jake leaned his bike against a lamppost and took her hands. The feeling of touch was unbearable, his big warm hands gobbled her little fingers.

'Don't you know I want to spend my life with you, Terry?' He asked, looking into her eyes with that puppy expression she hated in Charlie. 'Come to France with me. Let's get married.' He pushed her, clenching her hands. Horrified, she drew back.

'Richard, I'm not ready,' her voice was desperate. 'For that.' She broke into pieces. She was running from Charlie doing the same, that's why she didn't allow him to come. And now the ghost of Charlie was right in front of her.

'I can't make myself,' she yelled at him.

'What?' Jake pulled back. 'Tell me.'

'I just… I have to go.' Rooney replied, feeling ashamed, and not scripted, but of herself.

'Terry.' Jake said.

'I'm sorry,' she replied and disappeared behind the dusty door. In the darkness of the setting, her breath finally tore her chest, and she made an effort to keep the scream.

* * *

Sarah sat at the table. The crew was buzzing around her, waiting for Cate to come. They screwed with a wig again, and now they fixed it in a hurry. However, Todd was calm and joking around with the people. She just silently watched them moving as if she was alone on the set.

Cate finally arrived. Her cheeks were pink, and she said something to Todd. They laughed, and Cate went to the table.

'Well, hello again,' she said. Sarah examined her cautiously. Cate looked astonishing, the exact woman descended from the pages of 50's magazine.

'Hello,' Sarah replied and smiled. 'Everything is okay, as I see.'

'Yes, it is.' Cate said and ran her finger along the glass' edge. An olive inside swayed. 'Would prefer the real martini.' She said and looked at Sarah with a thoughtful expression.

Todd came to the table.

'Alright, all set.' He pushed a suitcase a little farther and turned to Ed. 'I guess, that's better. Check!' Ed gave the thumbs up. 'Ready?'

The women exchanged the looks and nodded. Todd overlooked the table with a brooding glance. 'Okay,' he murmured and ran back from the scene. 'Action!'

'I found Rindy's hair brush underneath my pillow this morning.' Cate sighed. 'Full of her hair. She does that, you know, to let me know she's been a good girl and brushed properly. I usually clean it out but - today, for some reason…' Her voice dropped and trembled.

Sarah looked at her, contemplating. The smoke was filling her lungs.

'How could he… How dare he… A morality what?' She finally spoke in a hoarse voice.

'Clause, he said.' Cate was examining the table, holding a smoldering cigarette. She inhaled the smoke and drank from the glass.

Sarah leaned forward.

'Carol,' she almost whispered, 'If I'm responsible in any way…'

Cate's eyes turned into steel.

'Don't you dare - don't you ever.' Her voice was a steaming iron, pouring onto the nonsense Sarah was saying. With those words, Cate finished her drink and pushed the empty glass towards Sarah. She docilely refilled it.

'Hey. You know that tailor's shop that went bust in Hoboken?'

Cate dragged her cigarette the last time and put it out.

'Sure. That one with the - the - glass thingy on the…'

Sarah nodded. Cate looked distant, as she was thinking about something painful.

'Exactly. The glass thingy. That one.' Sarah said.

Cate focused on her face and giggled.

'Bullshit. You have no idea what I'm talking about.'

"Indeed." Sarah thought. Cate was definitely out of the scene, but miraculously present, fitted there with all her coveted worries. But Sarah smiled and went on.

'You're right. But it's good to hear you laugh.' She brought Cate a cigarette and lighted it. With the first drag, the woman leaned back in the chair and glanced at Sarah curiously.

'Anyway, the landlord offered me a lease. I was thinking - another furniture shop? I'll need some help with restorations every once in a while, and you're the varnish master, so…'

Cate interrupted her. Sarah looked up.

'You're serious.'

Sarah smiled.

'I'm serious.' She paused and hesitantly continued. 'Couldn't be any more of a disaster than the shop we had.'

She focused on the glass, trying not to look at Cate. She was waiting for something, watching Sarah, as recounting her past in the mind. Then she leaned towards her and said in a low voice.

'Hey. We weren't a disaster. It just…' Cate lost her words. Sarah looked at her again.

'I know. Timing. Never had it. Anyway,' she sighed, trying to change the topic. 'I've got my eye on this redhead who owns a steak house in Paramus.' She grinned. 'I'm talking - serious Rita Hayworth redhead.'

'Really?' Cate smiled. 'You think you have what it takes to handle a redhead?' Sarah smiled back, knowingly. Cate raised her glass and toasted.

'You going somewhere?' Sarah asked, pointing to the suitcase.

Cate's gaze unfocused again. She was floating somewhere else, in the atmosphere of smoke and the late night restaurants.

'West, I was thinking… For a few weeks. Until the hearing.' She stumbled. 'What else am I going to do?'

Sarah stared at the decaying end of her cigarette. The silence crumbled onto the scene. In front of her, the woman in the suit was watching the dying bubbles in the glass.

'Well, I know you don't like driving alone. So.' Sarah paused and inhaled. The shuddering breath collapsed in her throat, and she continued in the intimate voice. 'She's young.'

Cate looked up. Her eyes were glowing, the fire was burning deep inside. Sarah was hypnotized by that flame; it was unstoppable in its totality. Cate slowly bowed her head.

'Tell me you know what you're doing.' Sarah said cautiously, not sure what exactly she was talking about.

'I don't.' Cate replied, keeping her gaze. She exhaled and faltered smile fiddled on her lips.

'I never did.'


End file.
